


When The Night Is Closing In

by cherishedlarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Caring Harry, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Louis is sick, M/M, Needy Louis, Protective Harry, Sick Louis, Sickfic, i guess, larry stylinson - Freeform, nothing but fluff, what even is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 18:39:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1438678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherishedlarry/pseuds/cherishedlarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Louis was dying. That much was certain.</p><p>Ok, maybe he wasn’t so much dying as he was simply miserable from this weird flu he had contracted. In fact, he believed this went beyond ‘weird flu’. This had to be the plague."</p><p>Or, basically, Louis is really, really sick and Harry is really, really lovely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The Night Is Closing In

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "Light Up The Sky" by The Afters. That song is THE SHIT.

Louis was dying. That much was certain.

Ok, maybe he wasn’t so much _dying_ as he was simply miserable from this weird flu he had contracted. In fact, he believed this went beyond ‘weird flu’. This had to be the plague.

It had started about two days ago. What began as a little stuffy nose, sore throat, and sleepiness had transformed into a near exploding head, sky-high fever, vomiting fits, hacking cough, and complete exhaustion.

Louis didn’t have the best immune system in the world. And ever since the infamous Take Me Home tour chest infection, it had only deteriorated. Something he didn’t even think was possible.

But apparently it was, considering Louis was fucking dying.

Although he felt more despondent than he ever had in his entire life, he still was grateful. He was grateful because he had the best boyfriend _in the entire fucking universe_ to take care of him.

And Harry had been nothing but perfect what with his endless supply of cuddles when needed, a backup of the backup box of tissues, glorious soup making skills, and great taste in movies. Louis knew he was lucky. Knew it deep within his bones. Harry would even wash out the puke bucket whenever Louis heaved into it. Harry Styles was not a real person.

But none of that made him feel any less miserable.

Because Louis was overdramatic. Always had been and always would be. Which is why he had Harry waiting on him hand and foot and didn’t even feel the least bit sorry about it. Well, of course he did. A little.

“Lou.” Harry breaks Louis out of his somewhat remorse with a quiet breath of his name. Standing in the doorway of their living room, looking as beautiful as ever while Louis is pretty much one with the couch at this point under a massive pile of blankets, is the boy that Louis knows he doesn’t deserve.

Louis looks over at him, eyes hooded and head heavy. “Yeah?” he croaks out, his throat feeling like shards of glass have been permanently implanted inside.

“What kind of soup do you want? We gotta get some food in you,” Harry said worriedly, slowly approaching the sprawled out boy. Louis was utterly exhausted but sleep just wouldn’t come. He was either too hot, too cold, hacking up a lung, or throwing up. None of which made for a very restful sleep. Over the past two days, he hadn’t been able to sleep for more than twenty minutes at a time for a grand total of about two hours. But whenever he opened his eyes, Harry was always there, making sure Louis was alright. Louis _wasn’t_ alright but Harry made him feel kind of ok.

Louis shook his heavy head slightly, the small motion sending pain throughout his entire cranium. “Don’t want any,” Louis said, closing his eyes in an attempt to calm the pounding behind them. Because _no_ , Louis could not throw up again.

At the feeling of a too-large hand brushing away his sweaty, unwashed fringe, Louis peeled his deadweight eyelids open slightly, squinting into the too-bright room to see a curly haired boy kneeling beside him with worry lines creasing his forehead staring at him with fear playing behind his bright greens. And beneath those brilliant greens were dark circles. Harry was exhausted too, only getting a tad more sleep than Louis had the past few days because Louis was his _baby_ and he was _worried_ and he didn’t know what to _do_.

“Lou, babe, please. You gotta eat something. I’ll make you some soup ok? You don’t even have to eat all of it.” And Louis knew Harry wasn’t going to take no for an answer because he was Harry. And Harry cared _so much_ about his Louis.

Louis nodded faintly, regretting it instantly because _ouch_. Maybe if his throat didn’t hurt so goddamn bad, he could actually say something as opposed to moving his head around so much.

“Do you need anything before I head to the kitchen?” Harry asked kindly, still mindlessly running his fingers through Louis’ disgusting fringe. Louis, mustering up all the strength he could, maneuvered a hand out from under the blankets and placed a single finger on the cheek closest to Harry, puckering his lips. He hoped and prayed Harry could tell what he wanted because he was not about to say a single word if he didn’t have to. Thankfully, Harry was able to decipher Louis’ cryptic motions and, to Louis’ pleasure, leaned over a tad so he could press a chaste kiss on Louis’ cheek. His cool lips (or maybe they weren’t so cool but Louis was so _goddamn hot_ he wasn’t really a fair judge of temperature) met Louis’ burning hot flesh, a slightly wet imprint left behind in their wake.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” And with one final swoop of his fingers through Louis’ fringe, Harry stood up to normal height and walked into the next room to prepare Louis’ soup.

With Harry gone, Louis instantly felt a type of cavern open up in his chest. He didn’t like when Harry left him alone. Even when he was well, Harry leaving him even for a minute caused him discomfort. But, now that he was sicker than he had ever been in his entire life, Harry being gone, even though he was simply in the other room, was pure torture for the little patient. He knew he was too attached to Harry. And Harry knew he was too attached to Louis. But neither of them felt sorry about it in the slightest.

Louis sluggishly grabbed the remote that was currently lying flat on his heavily covered stomach and began flicking through the channels, trying to find something at least half decent to watch while he waited for Harry’s return. He settled on a rerun of _Friends_ , the episode playing being one he hadn’t seen in a while.

Louis fell into a weird state between awake and asleep. His blinks were more drawn out and it seemed every time he closed his eyes, his mind would go silent. But, soon enough, his eyes would open and the cycle would begin again. And Louis just wanted to _sleep_. He was so tired. He was sick of being sick.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed because, truthfully, he wasn’t even paying enough attention to the television to give a guesstimate. But, soon enough, Harry walked back into the living room carrying a steaming bowl carefully in both hands. Louis felt a wave of nausea come over him, bile rising in his throat. Just thinking about eating made him want to throw up and he knew there was no way he was going to be able to keep it down. He swallowed heavily, absolutely killing his throat, but he definitely would much rather do that than allow the sick to leave him.

“Ok Lou, can you sit up for me babe?” Harry spoke up, placing the piping hot soup onto the coffee table which held piles and piles of used tissues. Tissues that he was sure Harry wouldn’t even hesitate to clean up because that was the kind of stuff Harry did. Louis just wanted to feel better so he could properly thank Harry for all that he had been doing for him.

Louis made a strange sound somewhere between a cry for help and a refusal, sitting up sounding like the absolute worst idea at the moment. He just wanted to lay on this couch forever and wallow in the sickness that was slowly killing him. Told you Louis was good at the overdramatics. “Can’t,” Louis managed to croak out, shutting his eyes firmly, attempting to shut Harry out.

“I’ll help you babe, don’t worry. But you gotta gimme a little bit of effort.” Harry’s patience was truly remarkable. Louis got annoyed with himself faster than Harry ever could. Louis was the luckiest son of a bitch to ever walk this planet.

With groans of protest, Louis (with the help of Harry, of course) managed to free the upper-half of his body from his makeshift blanket cocoon. The harsh cold air hit his skin with force, the dingy t-shirt he was wearing not doing much to protect him from the Arctic air surrounding him. The fever was hitting him hard, making him a tad delirious. He felt Harry’s arm wrap around his shoulders, hoisting him up ever so gently into a sitting position. Another wave of nausea overcame the boy, the sudden motion sending the few contents in his stomach sloshing around. And this time there was no swallowing it down.

Reaching out a frantic hand while the other flew up to clamp over his puffed out cheeks, Harry immediately grabbed the sick bucket that was laying on the floor and put it in front of Louis. With shaky hands, Louis held the bucket slightly, Harry holding up most of the weight. Louis opened his mouth, throwing up nothing more than bile for a few seconds before dry heaving, tears forming quickly in his eyes. Harry watched on helplessly as Louis continued spluttering and shaking. He felt useless but, other than rubbing soothing circles into Louis’ back and whispering reassuring words, there really was nothing that he could do in these moments.

After what felt like hours to both Louis and Harry, the disgusting sounds and violent heaves from Louis ceased and there was peace in the room once again. Harry reached a hand up, brushing Louis’ now completely soaked fringe away from his sweltering skin. With a solid hand still gripping onto the bucket, Harry looked at Louis warily, trying to gage what his next move should be.

“You ok now babe?” If Louis didn’t feel like his throat was on fire, he wouldn’t have even hesitated to say _No, Harry, of course I’m not ok. I just puked up everything left in my body._ But, unfortunately for Louis and fortunately for Harry, Louis wasn’t going to be saying anything for a while. Louis released his loose grip on the bucket, allowing Harry to take it completely from his hands. With quiet snaps of his knees, Harry stood up and rushed in the direction of the bathroom to clean the bucket. He needed to get it back soon in case Louis wasn’t done. But, from the way he was just dry heaving, it probably wasn’t even physically possible for anything more to come out of the ill boy.

After thoroughly washing the bucket, holding his breath the entire time so he didn’t breathe in the smell of Louis’ sick, Harry walked back into the living room with the now clean container. Unsurprisingly, Louis hadn’t moved. He was still sitting up out of fear of being sick once again if he so much as moved an inch. Although Louis’ body still remained upright, the entirety of his weight was pushed against the back cushions of the couch, eyes squeezed shut in agony, heavy breaths falling from chapped lips. Harry approached Louis cautiously, almost as if he was a wild animal about to flee.

“I’m guessing you’re not gonna be eating this soup anytime soon,” Harry said as light-heartedly as he possibly could at a time like this, placing the bin back on the ground where it had previously been. Louis peeled his eyes open slowly, looking over at his boyfriend hovered worriedly above him. And Louis just wanted to kiss that look off Harry’s face because _no_. Louis was the sick one. Louis was the one who was supposed to be feeling awful. Not Harry. Never Harry. “How about a bath?”

And those four words had Louis perking up instantly. A bath. _Oh Lord_ did he need that right about now. A small smile made its way onto Louis’ too dry lips, looking more like a grimace than anything. Picking his heavy head up from the couch cushions, he stared at Harry expectantly. Mouthing nothing more than ‘ya’ is all it takes for Harry to perk up and begin thinking about how they were going to attack this.

His mind started racing, trying to figure out the best way to go about this. “Ok, wait here. I’ll come get you when it’s ready. Start untangling yourself from your cocoon.” Louis gave a slight nod in understanding, beginning to do as he was told. What with his lethargic body and heavy head, both boys knew it would take a while for Louis to even get off the couch. So, while Louis was doing that, Harry scurried off to the bathroom.

First things first- get the water running. Turning the little nubbins on the shower wall (hot, hot, hot with just a dab of cold), he stuck his hand under the stream, feeling it out. Once he was satisfied with the temperature, he plugged the tub, the water quickly beginning to collect. Next up- clothes. Louis needed fresh clothes. Jogging to the bedroom the two boys shared, Harry searched through drawers until he found a clean pair of boxers, sweatpants, and a t-shirt. And if Harry purposefully grabbed his clothes for Louis to wear, well, he wasn’t about to admit it. Jogging back into the bathroom and placing the new outfit onto the sink, Harry kneeled down and began digging in the cabinet beneath it. This was where the boyfriends kept all their soaps, shampoos, and bubble baths which is exactly what Harry was looking for now.

He needed Louis to relax. Needed to make him feel ok. Well, as ok as he possibly could. Harry had kept up the image of being calm for the sake of Louis but, in reality, Harry was absolutely terrified. Never had he ever seen Louis, or anyone for that matter, _this_ sick. Louis was an absolute wreck and Harry couldn’t stand it. Harry had _tried_ convincing Louis to take him to the doctor but Louis had downright refused. He had some weird issues with doctors which Harry didn’t truly know the origins of.

Once he found a bubble bath he knew would ease Louis’ muscles and renew his senses-- vanilla with chamomile aka Louis’ favorite-- he poured two capfuls into the slowly filling tub. He dunked his hand into the steaming water, swishing it back and forth in an attempt to distribute the bubble bath evenly. Louis had a strange attention to detail when it came to his baths. However, Louis was so far gone at this point, Harry guessed his boy probably wouldn’t even know the difference.

Eventually, the tub was filled to Harry’s liking. Now the hard part- getting Louis in there. Placing his hands on his knees, Harry pushed himself up from his squatting position on the bathroom floor and made his way back into the living room where Louis was patiently waiting. Louis had, miraculously, managed to free himself from his mass of blankets and was now sitting fairly upright with his bare feet planted firmly on the ground. He was wavering slightly and still looked positively green but, although microscopically, he _did_ look a bit better. His dingy t-shirt hung lazily off his bony shoulders, exposing skin and a bit of It Is What It Is.

That tattoo was one of Harry’s favorites. And it wasn’t just because Harry enjoyed running his tongue along that particular area whenever the two boys were having sex but, rather, he loved the meaning behind it. He loved how it seemed to connote an air of ease and acceptance. Having to hide their relationship was, unfortunately, part of the job and they just had to ride it out.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Riding it out seemed like such an easy thing to do. They knew, deep within their beings, that the secret touches, longing gazes, “meaningless” tattoos, and cryptic lyrics would soon all be exposed for what they truly were. Louis and Harry would become LouisandHarry. Contracts would be shredded, beards would be shaved, pictures would be removed, labels would be altered, and reigns would be loosened. Both boys knew these days would come. Knew that they just had to hang in there. But there was something about the future that seemed too distant. It seemed completely out of touch, out of reach. But it would happen. Eventually they would get there. But for now, they just had to sit back and wait. It is what it is and it will be what it will be.

Louis looked up at Harry, eyes more focused than they had been for the past two days, causing a rush of relief to flow through Harry’s body. Louis still had a while before he was completely back on his feet but Harry truly believed the worst was over. Whatever contents Louis had just expelled from his stomach hopefully included the last of the bug.

Louis watched with blurry eyes as Harry got closer to him, giving him an exhausted but reassuring smile. “Look at you. You don’t quite look like death anymore. This is progress.” And if Louis didn’t feel like absolute shit at the bottom of a dumpster, he would have laughed. All he could muster was a small smile, trying to focus on Harry without much success.

“Feel bit better,” Louis managed to croak out, his voice still completely wrecked. And that one simple sentence sent Louis into a mini coughing fit. His throat was on fire, his head completely blocked and heavy, and his chest ached like hell. _Definitely the plague_ , Louis thought again. Once his coughs settled down to gentle throat clearings, Harry reached a hand out, brushing Louis’ fringe away. Harry always loved doing that but his obsession with doing it had only seemed to increase ever since Louis had fallen onto his deathbed.

“Hopefully you’re done with the stomach part of this thing. Probably scared those germs right out of you.” Louis smiled again at how his boyfriend was an _actual five year old_. “But we still gotta take it slow, ok? I don’t wanna risk anything. And from the sounds of that cough, you’re far from over this thing.”

Louis nodded ever so gently because _god dammit_ his head still felt like it was about ready to explode. Sitting up seemed to be better for him than lying down, the shit that was trapped in his head seemed to flow better throughout his body and loosen up a tad.

“Alright, the bath is all set for you. Can you walk or do you want me to carry you?” Louis shook his head, definitely not wanting Harry to carry his burning hot body all the way to the bathroom. Because although Louis felt absolutely horrendous, Harry was tired and worn out just as much as he was. And Louis didn’t want to push Harry too far. He wasn’t completely incapable of taking care of himself. He just needed assistance every once in a while. But he knew he could get himself to the bathroom with maybe a steady arm around his waist from Harry.

And that was exactly what happened.

Louis pushed himself up from the couch. His legs feeling like absolute jelly. He hadn’t really stepped foot off the couch for the past two days. What with everything being expelled from the upper end of his body, going to the bathroom hadn’t really been necessary apart from a few instances. Louis’ whole body was weak, not only from lack of movement, but from utter weariness. Louis wanted to sleep. Wanted it more than anything. His mind was swimming, unable to focus on anything. He felt delirious both from fever and lack of sleep. Louis was a fucking mess. But Harry’s strong arm wrapped around his slim waist steadied him both in body and in mind.

Eventually, the two boys arrived in the bathroom, Louis letting out a quiet sigh when he saw the bath prepared perfectly in front of him. Although he couldn’t smell anything with his hopelessly blocked nose, Louis was willing to bet his life on Harry using the vanilla and chamomile one. Harry removed his arm from around Louis’ waist, wary of Louis’ instability. Louis leaned against the countertop, unable to hold his weary body up without any assistance. He truly was a right mess

“Alright babe, now we gotta get these clothes off,” Harry said, motioning vaguely to Louis’ attire. Louis nodded faintly and _god dammit_ his brain was going to explode. When Harry started to approach Louis to lend a hand, Louis raised a fatigued hand to stop him.

“I got it,” Louis rasps, his voice sounding like he just swallowed shards of glass. Harry nods once in understanding, knowing Louis _doesn’t_ got it and it will only be a matter of seconds before he’s asking Harry to help.

Slowly, agonizingly, Louis begins to peel his shirt off his clammy skin, the fabric seemingly attached to him. After a full minute, Louis finally manages to free himself from the disgusting shirt. He throws it haphazardly on the floor, not exactly caring about being neat and tidy today. Normally, Harry would scold him for such a behavior because _we can’t live in a pigsty Lou_ but, thankfully, Harry kept his mouth shut today.

Now the tricky part. Taking off his pants. Louis wasn’t even stable on two feet, let alone one. This wasn’t going to end well if he attempted to do this himself. He looked up at Harry pleadingly, silently asking for his assistance. And _wow_ there’s no way Harry could resist that face.

He let out a breath of a laugh through his nose, smiling slightly at the pathetic boy. “Need help?” he asked. Louis smiled slightly in agreement, not wanting to risk another nod. That would probably knock him right off his feet.

Harry got onto his knees then and placed his fingers in Louis’ belt loops. “Grab my shoulders babe,” Harry said as Louis complied, doing just that. His weak hands grasped Harry’s shoulders weakly but enough to keep himself balanced. He closed his eyes, fighting a wave of dizziness. This was the longest he had been upright in the past few days. His body had, apparently, grow accustomed to being horizontal. 

Louis opened his eyes as the wave passed, focusing on one point of the wall to steady himself. Harry managed to get his pants and boxers down to mid-thigh and _ok_ Harry’s face was now pretty much in his crotch. And even though Louis had a muddled brain, the dirty thoughts didn’t falter. Because Harry was on his knees and his face was literally _right there_. No amount of sickness could stop Louis from being dirty-minded.

“Sit,” Harry commanded, tapping Louis’ legs lightly to coax him down. Louis looked behind him, searching for the toilet. He closed the lid and sat down on it, waiting for Harry to finish. Louis’ sweatpants were sweaty but Harry didn’t seem to mind. Harry still helped Louis take them off because he’s _Harry_ and Louis was so, so grateful.

Then, sitting naked on the toilet, shivering slightly from the cold bathroom air hitting his exposed skin, Louis felt incredibly vulnerable. Louis wasn’t a five year old. He was a grown man, completely (well, mostly) capable of taking care of himself. Yet here he was, sitting on a toilet, naked, boyfriend of what felt like forever helping him into a bath. What even _was_ Louis Tomlinson’s life?

Harry stared up at him, trying to decipher his current state. Louis looked absolutely miserable. Horrid, even. But, behind his torment, Harry could see a trace of thankfulness and appreciation.

“Come on babe. Let’s get you in there,” Harry said, standing up in the process. Louis wobbled his head, attempting a nod. Harry reached his arms in invitation, willing to help Louis up if need be. Louis placed one hand on the counter, reaching the other one out for Harry to take. Harry grabbed Louis’ weak arm in both hands, being careful not to put too much pressure on his fever-sore muscles.

Louis let out a moan as he stood up, legs so, so sore. He maneuvered his body, with the help of his lovely boyfriend, into the bath. He put one foot in first, the water coming up mid-calf. It was the perfect temperature, the warmth instantly relaxing Louis’ muscles. Sighing, Louis managed to get his entire body into the tub, Harry supporting most of his weight.

When his weary body was finally submersed, water practically coming up to his chin, he sighed again. The water felt so _nice_ and Louis was so _sick_ and Harry was so _lovely_. Harry sat down on the toilet, keeping a watchful eye on his fatigued boyfriend. He knew for a fact Louis would be dozing off before too long. The combination of warm water and bubble bath was sure to knock him out fairly quickly. And _thank god_ for that because Louis had barely slept at all for the past two days. And seeing Louis suffering as much as he was only made Harry suffer in return.

“Thank you Haz,” Harry heard a quiet voice rasp from beside him. Harry looked away from the point on the wall he had been staring at and turned to look at the sickly boy.

“For what?” Harry asked, unsure what exactly Louis was thanking him for.

Louis slightly shrugged, water lapping against the sides of the tub. “Everything. Keeping me alive.”

And Harry couldn’t help but laugh at that because his boyfriend was _so_ overdramatic and Harry was _so_ in love with him. “You’re not dying Lou,” Harry playfully scolded.

“Feels like it,” Louis croaked out, blue eyes only half-focused on Harry.

“The second day is always the worst. You’ll be back to your normal sassy self in no time,” Harry said, smirking at the submerged boy.

Louis smiled the tiniest bit. “Always the optimist,” he commented.

“Kinda have to be when you keep going on about how you’re ‘dying’,” Harry says, smiling slightly despite himself.

“You’d be saying the same thing if you felt as shitty as I do,” Louis muttered, voice sounding absolutely wrecked.

“Shhh, babe, don’t talk,” Harry said. He could hear how painful it was for Louis to barely say one word and, as much as he loved the fact that Louis was starting up his normal banter, Harry didn’t want him straining his voice any more than it already was. Louis pouted but, much to Harry’s relief, obliged.

The two remained in silence for awhile, the only sounds coming from Louis. Occasional sighs, lapping water caused by the moving of limbs, and careful throat clearings (because _holy shit_ those hurt) were the only things that could be heard in the otherwise still room.

“Do you realize what bubbles look like?” Louis suddenly spoke, snapping Harry out of his semi-trance. His eyes had been on Louis but his mind had been elsewhere.

“What do they look like babe?” Harry asked, not entirely sure where Louis was going with this.

“Mermaid jizz,” Louis said, completely serious. He trained his half-lidded eyes onto Harry, quite looking forward to seeing Harry’s reaction.

And even though Harry had practically no energy left and even though Harry was weighed down with worry for his boyfriend, a loud burst of laughter escaped his mouth, filling the room. The booming sound echoed, the familiarity of it causing Louis to smile brightly.

“I’m serious Haz,” Louis said, feigning hurt.

Harry managed to collect himself, running his hands down his face. “What on earth made you think of that?” he asked, looking back down at Louis.

“I mean, it’s _white_ right? And it’s in the water. Like, wouldn’t you _expect_ it to be frothy? Ya know ‘cause they’re mermaids? And, I don’t know, it makes sense,” Louis tried to argue even though his sickness wasn’t making his speech very coherent and understandable. It was a weak attempt at an argument but Harry seemed to go along with it all the same.

“Sing to me,” Louis suddenly spoke after about another minute of silence. And Louis didn’t need to say anything more. Harry knew this request was coming. And Harry knew exactly what Louis wanted him to sing.

“You don’t understand, you don’t understand…” Harry began, Louis closing his eyes out of instinct to try and appreciate and hear every note Harry was singing. His sultry voice filled Louis to the brim, bringing him comfort. The thickness of it, made deeper by exhaustion, was a sound Louis loved. Harry’s voice was rocky, filled with character and experience. Whenever he sang, you believed every single thing he was saying. Harry knew how to use songs to tell stories, knew how to make whatever situation he was singing about believable. Harry’s voice was Louis’ favorite. Harry’s voice was home. He had never heard anything quite like it. And he wasn’t just saying that because Harry was his boyfriend. He didn’t have to be connected to Harry in any way to appreciate the amazing gift he had been given. But being his boyfriend probably heightened his view of it.

So it came as no surprise that Louis soon felt his mind begin to drift off. His body became weightless, his thoughts floating. His senses began to slow down, disappearing one by one. He was only slightly aware of Harry’s voice, the rest of his mind lost.

Harry finished his song, unaware of Louis’ now unconscious state. When he looked back over at Louis and saw his head slowly sliding down to rest against his right shoulder, the look that overcame Harry’s face could only be described as _fondfondfond_. His breathing had slowed dramatically, alerting Harry that he needed to get him out of that bath and into bed as soon as possible. Hopefully-- and Harry prayed to whoever was listening-- that Louis’ coughing, vomiting, and sneezing would finally be overpowered by the sheer exhaustion.

He wasn’t even entirely sure what time it was. The days had been blurred together in a mess of soup, tissues, blankets, cuddles, and buckets. All he knew was it was dark and both he and Louis were absolutely knackered.

Harry stood up, knees cracking and a slight groan leaving his lips. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom closet, tossing it onto the counter. He then kneeled down beside the tub to start the slow process of getting the exhausted boy into bed. He reached a careful hand out, pushing his flopping fringe off his forehead which seemed to be a lot cooler than before.

“Babe. Lou, c’mon, wake up love,” Harry said quietly.

“Mmmmmm,” Louis moaned, moving his head away from Harry, refusing to open his eyes. And then, to Harry’s displeasure and Louis’ annoyance, a rough cough wracked through Louis causing him to bolt up. His hand went up to his mouth, attempting to cover it. The cough was disgusting, to be honest, and Harry couldn’t stand seeing Louis in that much pain and discomfort. And even though Harry wished he could just take it away, he knew he just had to wait for it to end. When Louis was able to gain control of it, he looked over at Harry with bleary eyes. He gave him a small, guilty smile. “Well that woke me up,” Louis croaked out.

Harry shook his head, smiling slightly. “Let’s try and get you to bed babe.”

Louis nodded and began to try and stand up. With shaky limbs and a lot of help from Harry, Louis managed to stand and maneuver his body out of the tub. He sat down on the toilet, reaching a hand out to grab the towel. He wrapped it around his body, the material feeling wonderful against his wet skin. Harry unplugged the bathtub, allowing the water to quickly start cascading down the drain. He then stood in front of Louis, placing his hands on his towel-covered arms and moved them up and down gently, attempting to dry Louis off as fast as possible.

“Are you going back to the couch or do you wanna try the bed?” Harry asked the slightly shivering boy. His fever was down, sure, but the cold air was still vicious against his previously submersed skin.

“Bed,” Louis said, voice nothing but a tiny whisper. Harry nodded in acknowledgement. Louis had selflessly set up camp on the couch the past two days out of fear that his sickness would keep Harry up all night. He didn’t want to be tossing and turning, coughing, and throwing up while Harry was trying to sleep. However, he might as well have been in bed because Harry had been up anyway with worry and constant trips from the living room to the bathroom. Harry tried telling Louis he didn’t need to stay out there but, even when viciously ill, Louis was still stubborn as hell.

When Louis was finally (mostly) dry, Harry helped the boy put his clothes on, the freshness of them causing Louis to sigh. He had been trapped in his sweaty pajamas for what felt like forever so this new outfit was a welcomed change.

“I need to pee,” Louis spoke, sounding like a five year old. His bluntness never failed to surprise Harry. Harry giggled and nodded.

“Ok babe. I’ll go get the bed set up.” With a final kiss to his forehead, Harry made his way out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He gathered up Louis’ mass of blankets and pillows in one arm and grabbed the box of tissues from the coffee table (completely ignoring the forgotten bowl of soup Louis hadn’t so much as touched) and made his way into the bedroom. He set up Louis’ side of the bed, piling the blankets on top of one another, placing the pillows in the exact way that Louis loved, and putting the box of tissues on Louis’ bedside table.

As he was getting everything ready, he heard the toilet flush and, soon enough, he saw his fatigued boyfriend making his way into the bedroom. Louis looked at Harry’s set up and couldn’t help the smile from forming.

“You’re too good to me,” Louis said quietly, not wanting to speak too loud in case his cough decided to make yet another dreaded appearance. Because Louis just wanted to _sleep_ and he was so _tired_ of coughing.

“Get in bed love,” Harry ordered gently, completely ignoring Louis’ statement. Louis happily obliged because he was finally going to be able to sleep in a bed as opposed to a couch. Hopefully that would help him get the rest he so desperately needed. And, considering he had managed to fall asleep in a _tub_ , there was no doubt he would be fine in a bed.

Louis made his way over to the nest Harry had created for him and climbed under the covers and _wow_ he didn’t realize just how much he had missed this bed until he was in it. How he had managed to get comfortable at all on that couch was a mystery because this mattress felt like a fucking cloud.

“D’you wanna watch a movie or just sleep?” Harry asked once Louis was settled, blanket being pulled up to his chin.

“Sleep,” Louis groggily said, closing his eyes, shutting out the glow that was filling the room. Harry smiled because _thank god_. Louis wasn’t the only one who needed to rest. He flicked off the bedside lamp and crawled into bed beside Louis.

When Harry’s sick, he doesn’t want to be touched, He wants to wallow in his own misery and not worry about infecting anyone else. Louis, however, is the complete opposite. Once Harry settled himself next to Louis, the ill boy slid his body into Harry’s. He rested his weary head onto Harry’s hard chest, throwing an arm around Harry’s stomach. He missed this, cuddling with his boy. They had managed to slot together on the couch but it wasn’t anywhere close to the comfort they felt when they could be in bed together.

On days off, this is exactly what they did. They didn’t go anywhere, didn’t speak to anyone. They simply stayed in bed all day, watching movies and having languid sex. It was so simple and the boys had grown so accustomed to that routine. They loved it, the ease of it all and nobody could ever take that away from them.

Because, on days off, they didn’t have to be “Louis and Harry” aka “pal dude mortal enemies”. The two could, instead, be “LouisandHarry” aka “boyfriend lover soul mates”. They weren’t controlled, _couldn’t_ be controlled in their home, and so the place was a type of sanctuary for them. They didn’t have to pretend, didn’t have to fake anything, didn’t have to be distant or paranoid. They could lay on top of each other, kiss each other until they were breathless, and could say whatever they wanted. They didn’t have to control “the fond” and didn’t have to keep up the damn charade.

The comfort of having Harry back in his arms and finally lying in bed lulled Louis rapidly into a deep sleep. Within mere seconds, Harry felt Louis’ body go completely lax against his own, limbs pliant. His shallow breaths became deep, mouth falling agape. Deep, congested snores came from the back of Louis’ throat, the sound instantly bringing Harry comfort. Louis was finally asleep, finally settled and Harry could _finally_ relax.

Harry lay awake for a while despite his complete exhaustion, tracing mindless patterns onto Louis’ back. Louis hadn’t been able to sleep for more than twenty minutes at a time so he was hyperaware of every movement from Louis. Every sigh, every moan, every snore, and every twitch from the passed out boy on his chest was noticed by Harry.

After twenty minutes had come and gone and after Louis’ snoring had only gotten louder and after a disgusting patch of drool had darkened Harry’s grey t-shirt, Harry felt like he could finally relax. Louis was at peace, finally, and didn’t look like he was going to be waking up anytime soon. With a final kiss to the top of Louis’ head, Harry closed his eyes and soon gave in to the comforts of sleep, dreaming of the day when their home wouldn’t be their only sanctuary.


End file.
